A was the Anonymous
by Genis Aurion
Summary: [Oneshot, slash, openpairing]. Feelings would always be feelings.


A was the Anonymous  
Zakuyoe

A was the Anonymous letters he wished to send. Written in pencil, folded with imperfection, hastily handed over whenever chance blew his way. Yet feelings were feelings, whether presented in words or with a lack of beauty. 

B was the Burning feeling in his stomach whenever they met. Every smile, every touch, every word spoken; they all triggered happiness and torture within him. Yet feelings were feelings, whether handed on a silver platter or on a burning slab.

C was the Closure he lacked. They met and left; they would never speak of the matter; they would pretend nothing took place. Yet feelings were feelings, whether discussed in person or spoken in silence.

D was the Doom he knew would come. He walked willingly to it, and in the days of the aftermath he wished he hadn't. Feelings were feelings, whether lost in the anticipation of happiness or the anticipation of demise.

E was the Everyday things that drove him mad. Their deal was clear, in that relations between them would continue as nothing had happened; but even the simplest things made it hard to keep to his part of the bargain. Yet feelings were feelings, whether forced to keeping a friendship or keeping sanity.

F was the Forgetfulness he wished he had. To forget pains, to forget ties that were binding him to a person who both pleased him yet tortured him. But feelings were feelings, whether they aided a clearer horizon or a imminent crucifixion.

G was the Gestures of kindness he was given. Actions toward a better future for the both, but they only made him wish he could be loved in that same manner. Yet feelings were feelings, whether in friendship or romance.

H was the Horror he had downed long ago. Complacent to the outside world, but horrified, scared and alone on the inside. And feelings were feelings, whether kept to oneself or shared for all.

I was the Individual he lacked. He depended on others; his happiness was their happiness; he did things so others would be blind to his unhappiness. Yet feelings were feelings, whether he stood amidst a crowd or alone atop a scaffold

J was the Just agreement of theirs. It was fair to him, to that person, and to that person's person; and there was nothing he could do that would satisfy all three. And so he'd do only to please the other two, for he was not deserving of the benefit of the situation. Yet feelings were feelings, whether given in reward or in punishment.

K was the Kill that had murdered him. The day he couldn't keep his mouth shut, the day the world stopped turning, the day their agreement was born; that day was the murderer and the thief. Yet feelings were feelings, whether given by accident or sneaked in with full intention.

L was the Love he hid, the love he would hide. He would not stop; there would be no reason to stop loving someone he truly loved just because the receiver was aware. Feelings were feelings, whether accepted or rejected.

M was the Moon that he watched with each passing night, the moon that characterized his will and hope. He knew he was doomed, yet there was always that glimmering star, that ray of moonlight that would convince him he would conquer. Feelings were feelings, whether held close at heart or faraway with the wishes of the stars.

N was the Name he associated everything with. Each word sounding remotely alike, each person sharing that same calling, each identity with a similar resemblance; they all brought his mind back to that face, that smile. But feelings were feelings, whether represented in nostalgic reminders or in associations uncalled for.

O was the Opaqueness of his character. He wanted none to see him for the weaker person he was on the inside; he wanted to stay strong, to never let anyone see him cry. But feelings were feelings, whether their holder kept them safely or foolishly.

P was the Person he wish he were. Sometimes he wanted to be that person, just so he knew what it was like to be loved by someone you wanted to love you. Feelings were feelings, whether in a painful reality or a blissful imagination.

Q was the Questions he would never get answered. Why not him? Why would this remain untold? Why would he always have to be the third? And why would feelings still be feelings, whether to the despondent ones to the object of desire or to the jealous ones to the person he wished he were?

R was the Rain that soaked him, the rain of fault, error and guilt he deserved to be drenched in. If he had only kept his mouth shut, things would have been fine between the two of them. Still, feelings were feelings, whether living in the aftermath of a mistake or in the beautiful past.

S was the Suffering that sealed him. He would not let others know he was suffering, nor would he let them feel that pain. And his feelings would still be feelings, whether others could see or feel them.

T was the Tale he would tell himself one day. How he had liked someone, how he had told that person, how he had continued to love that person, how he would forever hold out in silence. And even then, in that distant future, feelings would be feelings, whether forgotten or long treasured.

U was the Underlying tension that would forever exist between them. A harbored secret, untold to the world, covered by a friendship that was meant to hold. And feelings were feelings, whether that friendship broke or survived the passing time.

V was the Victory he wanted to feel. It would not be the victory of being loved, but a victory of mastering his feelings. He would still love. And feelings were feelings, whether defeated under the pressure of maintaining a friendship or victorious in a conquering he once desired.

W was the Welcome feeling he felt around that person. And though maybe he would lose it for a time, he knew he would always feel that belonging whenever they met again. Feelings were feelings, whether felt once or for a lifetime.

X was the eXorcism he thought he would face. But he never did. And feelings were still feelings.

Y was the Yearning he still held. He still loved that person. And though he knew it could never be returned, being allowed to continue to love was enough.

Z was the sound of his sleep. A peaceful sleep, long lost and long forgotten. A sleep induced by the thoughts of the person that both destroyed him and rebuilt him. And whether in his mind or in his waking moments,

feelings would always be feelings.


End file.
